Gristav exits the flophouse down the newly-swept stair and retraces his steps toward the northwest. The denizens of Rotgut may still be lying low in response to the Gendarmes' incursion on their territory; at any rate, the half-elf doesn't encounter any pedestrians until he has regained the southern verge of Leeward District. The quiet streets tell him that the luncheon hour has passed; fortunately, he had two breakfasts that morning. He passes through the market at Leeward Common, past the House of the Silken Veil where prostitutes stroll on the plaza, and around the ridge where it almost meets the bank of the Velashu on his way to Devil's Fork.
The Gendarme in the gatehouse gives him a stern glance as he approaches. "What's your business here?"
The Gendarme in the gatehouse gives him a stern glance as he approaches. "What's your business here?"
"With the General. Gristav, to witness testimony in the Vishki investigation. Has the priest arrived? Bit of a darker fellow, with a Telidorean tone? If he has, we're in some hurry. If not, take your time. I would have remained inside, but I went with Officer Graves, and squad, and I've only just been able to return. They have a cart, full of bodies... I suppose that suits Graves.", Gristav jests, and gambles a smile, hoping for some return.
Gristav blamed the tension with Graves, guessed he'd let it show in his voice, for all he tried to be light. As the gate guard's glower gathered, Gristav glared, letting the stored strife with Officer Graves sound in every sibilant...
"Now look here... waste all of my time, as you like. But if that priest's inside, it's me who's dutifully reported, and you who's wasting precious time. And that, too, might be dutifully reported."
"It's not really her," Arnando explains sympathetically before he begins his preparations. "I can't tell her anything, only get at the information she had at the time she died."
"Oh," Braddon's face saddens as he makes his way over to join the General.
"Inconvenient that he's so limited. Have you any suggestions how to word the questions? We must be exact; we've no margin for error if anything is less than clear."
Braddon presses a finger over his lips as if holding them closed and thinks for a long minute.
"Can't we just ask her what are the last events she remembers? And to describe the person she last saw? Cause that wouldn't be Ananda because she was upstairs the whole time."
"Piccolo Taphodarian. Tá mé suimiúil i gcluichí chomh maith. D'fhéadfadh liom a bheith leat ar do ghnó? B'fhéidir a thabhairt isteach GNOME eile chun na himreoirí."
The gnome grunts non-committally. "Tá mé gnó ar an réimse." He slowly untangles one hand from his suspenders and slides the open palm toward Piccolo. "Williplunnet Swevenforey," he introduces himself, and Piccolo recognizes the name. An artist, auntie Ambrosia has told him, though from her tone he infers she disapproves of Swevenforey for some reason. It wouldn't have to be a good reason; Ambrosia disapproves of a lot of people.
** spoiler omitted **
Swevenforey scratches his chin thoughtfully, making his gray-blue beard bristle. "Is é mo gnó a dhéanamh leis an úinéir, ní na himreoirí," he replies, "ach nuair a tá tú i, d'fhéadfaí tú fanacht agus féachaint ar na troideanna, is dócha." He grins suddenly. "Tar."
Gesturing for Piccolo to follow him, he navigates imperiously through the loiterers at the gate, up to the feet of the man handing out the programs. "Here," the gnome shouts impatiently, kicking at the man's boot, "down here, you oaf! Williplunnet Swevenforey, to see Zincher. Let me in at once!"
"Now look here... waste all of my time, as you like. But if that priest's inside, it's me who's dutifully reported, and you who's wasting precious time. And that, too, might be dutifully reported."
The Gendarme is unswayed by Gristav's attempt at fellow-feeling, but his threats introduce a modicum of doubt into the man's mind. He calls over one of his colleagues from the yard. "This fellow claims to be with the priest. Take him in, directly to the general. If the priest doesn't vouch for him, you can tell the general he lied to gain access to the compound." He flings a glare at Gristav that says he hopes the half-elf is lying.
"Can't we just ask her what are the last events she remembers? And to describe the person she last saw? Cause that wouldn't be Ananda because she was upstairs the whole time."
"If the murderer was disguised, a description will be of limited use," Mescher reminds them quietly. "Still, we can only know what the late Mistress Vishki knew, which may be little enough. "
There is a clunk from the top of the basement stairs as the door opens, and footsteps start to descend; a Gendarme is ushering Gristav into the basement. "General?" he begins suspiciously. "This fellow claims to be with the priest."
Piccolo wraps an arm around the old gnome as they make their way to the arena, "Sin an fáth Is maith liom mo mhuintir féin. I gcónaí sásta cabhrú le GNOME gcomh dhéanamh ar roinnt bonn."
Swevenforey scratches his chin thoughtfully, making his gray-blue beard bristle. "Is é mo gnó a dhéanamh leis an úinéir, ní na himreoirí," he replies, "ach nuair a tá tú i, d'fhéadfaí tú fanacht agus féachaint ar na troideanna, is dócha." He grins suddenly. "Tar."
Gesturing for Piccolo to follow him, he navigates imperiously through the loiterers at the gate, up to the feet of the man handing out the programs. "Here," the gnome shouts impatiently, kicking at the man's boot, "down here, you oaf! Williplunnet Swevenforey, to see Zincher. Let me in at once!"
** spoiler omitted **
Noticing Gristav, "What took you so long?"
To each of the guards from gate to General, Gristav evidences a pleasant impatience, answering the gate guard's glare with a satisfied smile, moving as swiftly as the escort might keep pace, and finally proceeding down the steps ahead of the General's confirmation.
To Snake's query, Gris replies, "Justice and Mercy, Duty and Diligence", Gristav mocks himself, "...and all of it, working uphill. I got to declare Cassie and Finnie and Micah all innocent, then see them put in shackles. And threatened with similar, myself. Unable to help them, I came here, in hope of helping her." Gristav gestures morosely toward Mistress Vishki, then looks to Braddon. "And you."
"Has a list of questions been prepared?", Gristav asks, looking from Mescher to Arnando and back. "Of course you're both more knowledgeable than I, but it's my understanding that once the echo is called, time is short, mere minutes?"
To Snake's query, Gris replies, "Justice and Mercy, Duty and Diligence", Gristav mocks himself, "...and all of it, working uphill. I got to declare Cassie and Finnie and Micah all innocent, then see them put in shackles. And threatened with similar, myself. Unable to help them, I came here, in hope of helping her." Gristav gestures morosely toward Mistress Vishki, then looks to Braddon. "And you."
Snake's eyes go wide. Moving angrily toward the magus, he grabs him by the shirt and gets right in his face. "You did WHAT?! TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!"
The general's eyes flash with annoyance as he looks over to see if Rolf is maintaining concentration. "Gentlemen, if this can't wait until after the interrogation, pray take it upstairs. The last thing we need is a distraction from the task at hand."
"If the murderer was disguised, a description will be of limited use," Mescher reminds them quietly. "Still, we can only know what the late Mistress Vishki knew, which may be little enough. "
Braddon thinks a moment.
"The bird!" He smiles and nods then realises further explanation may be required."Lil has a magic creature- a family. It's a bird and the gnome..." ("Better leave out the gnome.") "...I mean, it's always with her. So even if Gramma can't describe Lil she might describe her falim... famli...pet."
He turns as Gristav walks in.
"What type of..." He takes a step back, eyes wide, as Snake pushes forward.
The general's eyes flash with annoyance as he looks over to see if Rolf is maintaining concentration. "Gentlemen, if this can't wait until after the interrogation, pray take it upstairs. The last thing we need is a distraction from the task at hand."
"Um, yeah... sshhh!" Braddon adds helpfully.
"Do you think I'm happy about it?", Gristav growled across the inches between his face and Snake's. "When the General ordered a squad to bring the bodies from the church, we'd left two villains alive, and two innocent men, and a throat-cut woman, and a girl. And what do you think might happen? So, against confusion, I went. And the villains had long fled, and I protested of innocence, but to prove himself a dutiful fisherman, Graves has them all in shackles, and every sign of carting them here, sat upon the bodies."
"Would you be happier with me, if I shared their ride and shackles? Or would I need to kill more men, for you to Let Go Of My Shirt!?"
"Here," the gnome shouts impatiently, kicking at the man's boot, "down here, you oaf! Williplunnet Swevenforey, to see Zincher. Let me in at once!"
The guard, who hadn't noticed the Small people's approach, hisses in pain and surprise. "Nine Hells, you little gremlin!" he growls, picking his injured foot off the floor to rub his ankle. "You could ask nicely first."
"And you could keep a weather eye out, hey?" Swevenforey replies viciously, "and not waste my time. I'm not a damned idler, loafing about like the rest of these worthless laggards."
The waiting crowd mutters mutinously at the gnome's characterization, but he ignores them fearlessly as the man at the gate fishes a key from his pocket to unlock the portcullis. He raises it just a few feet, enough for a Small person to duck under comfortably, and lets Swevenforey enter. When Piccolo follows, the man hesitates. "Wait, who's the other fellow? Is he with you?"
"Well, of course he's with me," Swevenforey barks back caustically over his shoulder, without slowing his pace. "Who do you think he's with: Boss Croat?"
The pair of gnomes walk up the slight incline toward the interior of the arena. Just before they step out into the sunlight, stairs lead upward to either side, and Williplunnet turns sharply and ascends. The dimly-lit staircase folds back on itself several times, and they pass by a second, higher entrance to the seats before coming out into the sun at the very top of the circling walls. Piccolo blinks a few times as his eyes adjust to the brightness, but the other gnome just keeps walking.
Far below, in the center of the arena, the sand appears to have been raked to precision. The sun has been baking into rows of stone benches circling the arena for a few hours already, and the heat reflecting back up is almost visible; Piccolo can only imagine how uncomfortable it must be for the men and beasts on the sand. Up here at the top of the bowl, there is a hint of breeze from the harbor, but it is still unpleasantly warm, even before the gates open to pack the seats with sweating spectators. Six canopied boxes around the edge of the arena provide the only shade until the sun sinks low enough to shroud the western half of the stadium in shadow, and it's toward the southwestern box that Swevenforey is heading. Piccolo can see three large men within.
Letting go of his shirt with a shove, "Two villains? You mean the nobody thugs who need someone like Beltias to tell them how to blow their nose? Those villians?! Maybe if you'd leave well enough alone, and stop jumping to moronic conclusions, none of it would've ever happened. I swear," he says in frustration, shaking his head. Turning to the others, "I'll be upstairs." And with that, Snake takes his leave.
Gristav sighs, and silently straightens his shirtfront, standing expectantly for the publican's prayers.
Piccolo responds to the guard, "Yes. I'm with..." Of course, no need for a bluff when cantankerous works much better. He gives a two finger salute to the guard and makes haste to keep pace with Williplunnet taking in what details he can of the interior and path he is being led on. Williplunnet seems to know this place well. His business does seem serious to him. I hope it is not violent in nature and that Cleg is as amenable to a cantankerous nature as that guard. I'm ill-prepared for a fight.
"I'll be upstairs." And with that, Snake takes his leave.
Snake storms up the stairs and drops the pomander back into the depleted bowl. The Gendarmes on the ground floor view his lone reappearance warily.
"Lil has a magic creature- a family. It's a bird and the gnome..." ("Better leave out the gnome.") "...I mean, it's always with her. So even if Gramma can't describe Lil she might describe her falim... famli...pet."
Mescher ignores Snake's departure with equanimity. "I doubt she's the only woman in town with a bird, even discounting sailors and Cyphermages, both of whom are known to have an affinity for pets. Still, it's a detail that can be ascertained. We can ask her to describe the last person to whom she answered the door; if she doesn't mention a bird, we could make that a second question. Alternatively, we could ask her to describe the sequence of events after the murderer entered, although I doubt we'll learn anything we haven't already guessed. I take it we're in agreement that the intruder likely drugged her as soon as possible and she'll know nothing that happened afterward?"
Piccolo hurries after Williplunnet as he heads for the shade of the canopied box. He notices that it is furnished with carved wooden chairs rather than simple stone benches. A muscular man with close-cropped hair is seated in one of the chairs, while a tall man in banded mail with a heavy steel shield and a plumed helmet stands protectively over his shoulder, much as Bojasc does for Saul. The third man is entirely bald, although he seems to be in the prime of his life; it seems more likely that he shaves his head than that he has lost his hair. His common trousers and loose homespun shirt don't conceal his powerful physique. He seems to be in conversation with the seated man, but before Piccolo has approached close enough to overhear what they might be talking about, Williplunnet interrupts them irascibly.
"Erix! Mr. Zincher!" he shouts without slowing his approach. "When am I going to get a chance to see those birds of yours in action, hmm? You want them on the side of the arena, I'm going to have to see how they kill! Do they peck, or do they kick? I'm hoping they peck; blood and viscera are better than bruises, hey?"
Mescher ignores Snake's departure with equanimity. "I doubt she's the only woman in town with a bird, even discounting sailors and Cyphermages, both of whom are known to have an affinity for pets. Still, it's a detail that can be ascertained. We can ask her to describe the last person to whom she answered the door; if she doesn't mention a bird, we could make that a second question. Alternatively, we could ask her to describe the sequence of events after the murderer entered, although I doubt we'll learn anything we haven't already guessed. I take it we're in agreement that the intruder likely drugged her as soon as possible and she'll know nothing that happened afterward?"
"The people we asked said she didn't get visitors. I kinda figured Lil cast a spell on Gramma when she opened the door. Maybe we could ask her about that. The events that happened when she opened the door," Braddon suggests.
"And a description of the person or her bird."
"I must disagree regarding the assumption of drugs; Lil's been described to me as a spellcaster. Perhaps an enchantress? We may find a report of a very nice woman, who pushed Dame Vishki from the cliff. Or we may clear Lil, entirely. We've seen lots of evidence, but nothing like proof."
"But that's just more... moronic deduction."
General Mescher arches a brow. "My daughter was drugged, not enchanted" he reminds Gristav. "Still, as you say, we have no proof, at least until that pair of vials has been analyzed."
Arnando completes his preparations and says in a low voice, "Ready, General. What do you want me to ask?"
"Cooke!" Mescher calls quietly but authoritatively up the staircase, and the Gendarme in question appears. "I'll need a transcript of questions and answers," the general tells him, and the man nods, takes a parchment and quill from a drawer, and stands ready to take dictation.
Piccolo stands surreptitiously near the door both gnomes entered. He will watch the proceedings. Cleg looks about as I expected. I imagine the armored man is a bodyguard. Who is the other player? Watch and learn is what I always say.
"Erix! Mr. Zincher!" he shouts without slowing his approach. "When am I going to get a chance to see those birds of yours in action, hmm? You want them on the side of the arena, I'm going to have to see how they kill! Do they peck, or do they kick? I'm hoping they peck; blood and viscera are better than bruises, hey?"
"We might also ask who the gentleman caller, not of that night, but of occasion, was. Unless it was you, General, visiting cloaked?"
"With limited time, that ought be last. 'Name and describe the person at the door. Describe any animal in attendance. Describe events after opening the door. Name and describe the gentleman that sometimes called.' And, for mercy's sake, 'What would you tell Adalo, who is to be released?'." Looking apologetically to Braddon, Gristav half-guesses, "She did not know of you. Did she?"
"Which gentleman caller?" Mescher demands in a tone of outrage, forgetting to keep his voice down.
"Ask the corpse.", Gristav whispers.
"Erix! Mr. Zincher!" he shouts without slowing his approach. "When am I going to get a chance to see those birds of yours in action, hmm? You want them on the side of the arena, I'm going to have to see how they kill! Do they peck, or do they kick? I'm hoping they peck; blood and viscera are better than bruises, hey?"
The seated man looks up in surprise at the gnome's approach and, despite his bull neck and broad shoulders, looks almost sheepish. "Will," he greets Swevenforey in a surprisingly mild voice. "I... Hasn't Akron been giving you access to the mews for sketchwork?" He looks at the man with the shaved head questioningly.
"Ayup," Swevenforey replies before the other man can respond, "I've got pages of the things standing and sitting and sleeping and eating and doing everything but killing someone! When are you going to let them loose on the sand?"
Zincher hesitates, throwing a glance at the Shoanti. "I was thinking you might paint the banner first, get the public worked up for their debut appearance."
"Damn and blast it, Zincher!" Swevenforey explodes. "I have a reputation to think of. I can't paint a bird pecking a man's eyes out if it really disembowels him with its talons. If you've no respect for art, it's false advertising at the very least!"
"What about a private bout?" the Shoanti -- Akron -- suggests, a look of mild amusement on his otherwise impassive face. "If the pirates make a poor showing, we can use one of them or requisition a prisoner from Shoreleave for the purpose. We could hold it in the practice arena to avoid publicity."
"Hmph!" the gnome snorts thoughtfully. "I'd prefer natural lighting ... but I suppose that would be adequate, if it's the best you can do."
"Which gentleman caller?" Mescher demands in a tone of outrage, forgetting to keep his voice down.
Braddon speaks up. "The people that saw Lil that afternoon thought it odd as they said Gramma didn't get any visitors and thought she was lonely. They said that occasionally a man would visit, but I thought that was you. But it wasn't a man who visited last. They said it looked like a Varisian and we found those scarves and things at Lil's hideout. So I think we should ask your question, sir, to describe the last person she answered the door to, then ask her the events that followed after that."
Piccolo maintains an impassive expression, I see now why Auntie didn't speak well of Will. He's a bit mad. In fact, they all seem to have a rather low opinion of other's lives. I hope I don't become a muse for the artist.
Turning to a random guard, "Hey, bub, there's three in shackles heading this way - I guess this is where you bring 'em all - but they're not criminals. What's going to happen to 'em?"
The Gendarme answers without much interest. "Any prisoners brought in would just be taken directly to Shoreleave, unless the general has a particular interest in them. That's the building against the ridge to the south," he directs Snake, reading the newcomer's ignorance in his eyes.
"General?" Arnando asks quietly but with an undercurrent of tension in his voice. "We're burning daylight here."
"Hmph!" the gnome snorts thoughtfully. "I'd prefer natural lighting ... but I suppose that would be adequate, if it's the best you can do."
Zincher shoots a skeptical glance at Akron, who gives him a reassuring nod. "All right then," he agrees. "I'll send a runner to tell you when and where. In the meantime, why don't you stay for the afternoon's bouts? You and your guest, of course," he raises his chin to include Piccolo loitering in the background.
Piccolo nods a polite thanks to Cleg. A slow and careful game is the best way to play.
"General?" Arnando asks quietly but with an undercurrent of tension in his voice. "We're burning daylight here."
"Yes, yes," he grumbles, with an irritable glance at Gristav. "Ask her to describe the last person to whom she opened the door."